“If we desire true healing, then we must dig deeper. Deep within. Down to the very depths of soul, of being.”
“I am not a mechanism, an assembly of various sections.
And it is not because the mechanism is working wrongly, that I am ill.
I am ill because of wounds to the soul,
to the deep emotional self
and the wounds to the soul take a long, long time,
only time can help
and patience, and a certain difficult repentance,
long, difficult repentance, realization of life’s mistake,
and the freeing oneself
from the endless repetition of the mistake
which mankind at large has chosen to sanctify.
The agony of watching a beloved suffer knows no boundaries. Words are worthless.
In the silence, there’s only the bewildered mind questioning. All the ‘whys’ come flooding in, inundating one’s mind, welcoming insanity.
A bleeding heart takes time to heal, if it ever does.
There are no abiding answers, for cures elude us. Solutions are mere palliatives, band-aids, easily discarded for ever more lethal~exorbitant~treatments.
In the end, there’s really nowhere else to go. No place we’d gladly be.
So why bother? Why boggle the mind?
Because we desire comfort, ease, a pain~free transition to life’s next phase for the beloved. Because it tears us apart to witness their torment.
Because we fear what our own future holds. Were we to suffer a similar fate, wouldn’t it be better to simply pull the trigger?
Because illness has a way of making even the innocent feel guilty. The lily~pure dirty. And we the sinners? We look doom in the face and promise repentance.
Do we truly mean it?